


The Dog Days Are Over

by yer_a_wizard_watson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yer_a_wizard_watson/pseuds/yer_a_wizard_watson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set when the characters are in year 11 of high school. John and Sherlock and dating but it's not that simple. Jim Moriarty sets out to destroy their relationship and Lestrade is neither on his side or against him although he'd do anything for Mycroft. How do the couple cope with all the cruel games Moriarty plays? Will Sherlock crack under the pressure?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Sherlock fic so I hope I get readers...

It was another sunny day in London, quite a rare thing, John thought as he swung his satchel back and forth as he walked to school. He had his final chemistry exam today and he knew he would pass as he'd been studying all week with his boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes. He smiled as he remembered back to last night when Sherlock came around to revise with him and of course, sneak in a few kisses. He loved Sherlock so much and every detail about the mysterious boy left him in a wonder of awe. To him, Sherlock was the only person that mattered on earth and after they'd finished in this hell that they call school, they were going to move into Sherlock's empty flat together. Knowing that was what got John through the horrid dog days of high school. He took a deep breath as he walked through the iron school gates and gulped when he saw what was coming next.  
A strong arm pushed John to the ground and he winced as he landed roughly on the curb. He squeezed his eyes shut and then squinted because of the sun to see a tall figure. It was him. It was the one boy who had made his life hell for 7 years. Jim Moriarty.

"You sucking Holmes off, you fag?"  
John's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger as the school bully, Jim pushed him up against the school wall, his play time mafia sniggering behind him.  
He struggled against the taller boys strength and john's textbooks collapsed from his shaking arms onto the school yard.  
"You are aren't you, mummy's boy?" Jim grinned evilly and ripped John's glasses from his face and smashed them on the floor.  
John's eyes pooled with tears as Jim Moriarty spat on the broken glasses and then tightened his grip around john's throat.  
"Please stop'" John Watson whined as he struggled for breath.  
"Aw, or what? Your little boyfriend isn't coming today, John baby" Moriarty grinned maliciously at the vulnerable student.  
"All right, that's enough," John recognised the voice and was somewhat relieved. It was Greg Lestrade- part time bully, part time nice guy. He would do anything for Sherlock's older brother, Mycroft who was a university student and a successful one too.

"I'm bored now anyway," Moriarty sighed but then gave one final punch to John who shrunk to the ground in pain. He winced as Jim trod on his bad shoulder. When Jim saw that this pained the smaller boy, he pressed down harder. "Pathetic faggot".  
And, with that him and his sheep left.

"Sh-Sherlock," johns tears trickled down his bloody cheeks and then he started wailing.  
"John, John, stop crying. You look weak" Lestrade sighed and then pulled the shorter boy up by one strong arm.  
"Where is Sherlock?" John sniffled and Lestrade shrugged as he pulled him towards the infirmary.

"Name, class?" The nurse asked as she sat John down on a bed.  
"John Watson, 221A" he managed through gasps.  
"Any one I can call?"  
"Sherlock Holmes, class 221B" and with that, John's vision blurred and everything went black.

Sherlock tried to stay awake during English class. They were doing work on a detective case and studying various pieces of text and as per, he had worked out who killed who and how before everyone had written the date and title in their books.  
"Sherlock, do be quiet," his English teacher grimaced but the determined young genius wasn't going to give up that easily.  
" but I know that she did it with the poison, it's so obvious" he huffed and then went back to reading his chemistry book he'd borrowed from John's house to revise. He smiled when he read the note that was stuck in between the first couple of pages:

Good luck today. Cuddles later?  
J x

Yes, yes, yes. Sherlock thought as he thought back to last night and how warm John was as they laid in bed together, holding hands. John was always scared his parents would come in and find out about their relationship but, it never bothered Sherlock if people knew. He loved John and he was proud of that.

Then, the phone rang and Sherlock's attention was quickly drawn to the phone call and then he listened intently at what was said.  
"Sherlock?"  
"Well yes but-"  
"Oh well he's in a lesson"  
"Oh I see, I'll ask him now"  
Sherlock rises an eyebrow at the teacher as if to ask for answers.  
" Holmes, you're wanted in the infirmary. John Watson asked for you".  
All over the class, there were ooooooohs and then one boy on the football team shouted " oh your boyfriend misses you, gay boy". Everyone laughed and then Sherlock rose from his chair, wrapped his scarf around his slender neck and simply stated, "Gay is an adjective used to describe a happy feeling. However, yes, I am a homosexual and if you were simply implying that John Watson and I are in an intimate and loving relationship then yes, it's true," he picked up his back pack and then strode towards the door but paused, turned and said, "by the way, Jason, I don't think it would be wise to give Peter a hand job in gym class". The football player burned crimson and then shut up as Sherlock walked away.

"John!" Sherlock cried as he saw his beaten and bruised lover lying in pain on a bed in the infirmary. He sat on the bed with John and took his hand in his own. "John," Sherlock whispered again and then kissed his nose gently.  
The nurse that was standing in the doorway made a noise of disgust and then Sherlock turned around to glare at her.  
"Thanks for your unwanted comment" he smiled sarcastically and shut the door in her face.  
The shorter boy began to stir in his sleep and then Sherlock heard his soft voice. "Sherlock?"  
"I'm here, John," Sherlock hugged him but the fragile medical student winced and tears poured from his blue eyes. "Who was it? Moriarty again?". John nodded and rested his head on his boyfriend's broad shoulder.  
"He won't hurt you again," Sherlock kissed his bruised lips tenderly and then John gasped with shock but then kissed back roughly, regardless of the pain he was in. Sherlock wrapped his arms around him as he savoured the taste of john's mouth who moaned in approval.  
He held him tighter as he explored deeper into john's mouth with his ever curious tongue and John shuddered with pleasure as Sherlock grinded his hips against john's.

"Sherlock!" John moaned as he felt his cock become erect. Sherlock Holmes was so sexy, even kissing would turn John on so much.  
Sherlock's hand travelled south but John swatted it away. "Not here," he gasped but Sherlock carried on anyway.  
"Sherlock, please stop," John moaned as Sherlock fiddled with his belt but he didn't take any notice of his boyfriend's complaints as he rubbed john's length through the fabric of john's pants.  
"S-Sherlock!" John practically screamed as the taller boy took him whole. He tangled his fingers into Sherlock's dark curls and panted as he bucked his hips forward.  
"What if- ahh- someone comes in?" He said between gasps of pleasure. His head rolled backwards onto the pillow and Sherlock ran his tongue up and down the length.  
"Sherlock-ugh-stop, please not here!" John cried as his boyfriend massaged his ass cheeks. John felt himself coming in done with pleasure as Sherlock inserted him with his fingers that were coated with his sweet saliva. John felt as though he was burning up as Sherlock sucked harder, his cheeks turning inwards. John felt himself reach his climax and released with a grunt on the bed.   
"oops, better call the nurse to clean this up," Sherlock commented and then John shook his head with a grin. Sherlock pulled his lover into his arms and held him for a while until the next bell went for Chemistry class.  
"Oh no, I need to take this test" John cursed, his head in his hands. Sherlock glanced up at the clock and sighed.   
"I have to go, baby," He placed a tender kiss on John's temple. "I'll sort something out with the professor." He promised and then, scarf blowing in the wind, he was on his way over to the Science block.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As if John's day couldn't get any worse, Sherlock's big brother turns up unexpectedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got kudos on the first chapter asdfghjkl *squeals with excitement*

As his eyes flickered open slowly, John had no idea where he was. He furrowed his eyebrows and then rose from his lying position. He groaned as his whole body felt like it had been beaten but he then realised that yes, he had been beaten. The horrible memories of earlier that morning flooded back to him and he shivered with fear. He didn't know what the problem was with his and Sherlock's love. It wasn't as if it was illegal or even as if it hurt people. In John's eyes, it was just love and he'd do anything for Sherlock and if anybody laid a finger on him, John wouldn't be responsible for his actions. He would-

His thoughts were interrupted when one of the school nurses opened the door and stood there with a bored expression.  
"John Watson?" she sighed and folded her arms.   
"Yes?" He asked confusedly and looked at e nurse as if se had 3 heads.   
"The school's just about to close. I have to ask you to leave," the nurse rolled her eyes towards the clock on the wall which read 6:50 pm.  
John didn't realise it was this late and If he'd have realised, he would have woken sooner to wait for Sherlock but by now, he'd have long gone. He nodded, picked up his bag and started on his way out.  
"By the way, someone left a message for you," the nurse called after him which made the medical student freeze.  
"Jim Moriarty wishes you the best".

 

Jim Moriarty wishes you the best.  
"What the hell does that mean?" John muttered to himself as he limped slowly towards the bus stop. He hoped that there would be a bus still running because he had no idea how he was going to get home in the poor bruised state he was in. He sighed and then sat down slowly on the bench. He winced as the movement made the bruising worse and the roaring fire inside his head was burning as the paracetamol wore off. But above all, he missed Sherlock. He missed the way his soft curls felt when he ran his hands through them and the way his kisses taste of sweet tobacco. He wanted to be wrapped in his welcome arms and held tightly were no harm could come to him.  
John sighed when he realised that after waiting 20 minutes, there wouldn't be a bus coming his way.   
"Yeah, that would be way too convenient," he cursed under his breath as he stated limping on a long journey in the direction of his house.   
"Or, you could come with me," John jumped as h realised that he wasn't alone there. He felt somewhat comforted by the fact that there was somebody there but also scared because in the injured state he was in, anything bad could happen.   
"Mycroft Holmes," The stranger extended a hand to John who shook it awkwardly. "Pleased to be acquainted with you, Watson". 

Mycroft. Holmes.  
Did that mean that Sherlock had a brother? Well, that was unexpected.

"It would be easier for both of us if you came with me," Mycroft smiled bitterly and held the door of a shiny black Mercedes open for the student to sit in. "Come now, John".  
John didn't like this. He contemplated running away but John was never the sporty type and he couldn't run very fast with his injuries and the stranger would surely catch him. His plan would be to stay where he was although the he found the way Sherlock's brother looked quite intimidating and he was sure he'd injure him more and he didn't really feel like being beaten for what felt like the thousandth today. He wasn't going to go with Mycroft either tough, he'd barely just met him and it didn't look likely that he was going to trust him in 30 seconds.  
"Why?" John asked hesitantly as he took a few steps back but groaned as pain shot up through his leg again so bad he almost doubled over in agony.   
"Like I said," Spoke the older Holmes with a hint of mystery in his voice. "It would be much easier for you to come with me". 

The car ride was silent apart from John's worried sighs as he watched the dark trees swirl past in the windows. He would be lying if he said he wasn't scared because Mycroft Holmes wasn't the kind of guy you messed with and he was afraid that he'd soon learn that the hard way. It was a rich vehicle nonetheless: expensive leather seats that were neatly polished, a flat screen television with HD quality, Rich champagne poured into diamond glasses and John was certain that Mycroft was wearing Westwood.   
"Champagne?" Mycroft offered with a sinister smile. "It's the best you'll have in a while, Watson", He tempted again and John gave into temptation and took an expensive glass of stars. He was right however- the champagne fizzed delicately in his mouth which was over flowing with sensations and if John had to describe how it felt on his tongue, he'd literally say that felt like an orgasm for the mouth.   
But he then realised that he was basically being held captive against his own will so he tried not to enjoy the rest of the glass.  
"Where are you taking me?" John asked as his eyebrows knitted together as they usually did when he was confused or scared.   
After a long and anxious pause, Mycroft sighed and said, "To our lair and when I say our, I mean the lair of Sherlock and I". 

Well, it could be worse, John thought.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's shock after shock for John as he visits the Holmes' household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for leaving kudos on this. I feel blessed!  
> I know I haven't updated in a while so here is a pretty long chapter~

Sherlock had waited until Mycroft had left before he frantically searched in the medical cupboard for his tablets. He grunted with annoyance when he couldn't find them and then he slumped down on the freshly polished couch. Mycroft had hidden them again. His brother was aware of his drug problem and tried to resolve it by making Sherlock go cold turkey but it never worked. He needed to feel the rush, he wanted his limbs to go all weak and then he could forget about everything for a few minutes and sometimes even up to a few hours. He tapped his skeletal fingers in an anxious drumbeat as his mind filled with twisted thoughts of deprivation. He needed it and he was going to get it sooner or later.

It had started a few years ago, his drug problem. He needed an escape from reality, a fixed illusion that was out of his control for once. Sherlock felt free when he swallowed those pills of hallucinations and it gave him an adventurous rush. He'd heard all of the bad things people say about drugs but he carried on nonetheless. It didn't bother him if people found out but he wanted to keep this from one person. One special person that meant more than life to the sociopathic teenager. His John Watson.

With a new sense of determination, he rose to his feet and searched the entire house for his sweet fantasy pills but after what seemed like an eternity of failure, he gave up with a defeated sigh and lit a cigarette to calm his nerves as he waited for Mycroft to arrive. He was going to interrogate him until he gave up. It never usually took much time before his older brother eventually caved in and allowed Sherlock his drugs. To be honest, Mycroft was a bit of a pushover.  
  
  
John felt somewhat calm considering he had been manhandled into a stranger's car and could be heading to his death. He rolled back his shoulders and slipped back into the comfortable seat of the Mercedes as he thought of Sherlock. He couldn't wait until he next saw him and the butterflies in his stomach fluttered as though they were on speed. He smiled as a light blush dusted his cheeks when he read over their sweet text messages on his new iPhone that Sherlock had brought him.  
"I brought you here for a reason, John. Don't think you're just coming round for tea," Mycroft's voice broke his dream of bliss and turned john's thoughts sour.  
  
 _What did he mean by that?_

John's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the nonchalant rich boy with a confused look but he didn't receive the reply he was looking for.  
"Oh and I have a present for you," Mycroft passed a small leather box to John. John sceptically examined the box, ready for some poisonous gas to errupt from within but, laying on the silk inside were a pair of glasses. But, not just any glasses. They were the exact glasses he usually wore but they were neatly polished and not broken and didn't have tape to hold them together.  
"Th-thank you," John said slowly as he cautiously took the glasses just incase it was some evil trap. Mycroft rolled his eyes and shoved the case towards him abruptly.  
"Sherlock said your glasses had broken," Mycroft commented flatly as he took another swig of his champagne.  
"But I didn't tell him..." John trailed off as the pieces of the puzzle clicked together. His boyfriend was extremely observant and would have noticed that anyway even if he didn't say. He had always been like that, always pointing things out that were hidden to the average human eye. John thought it was truly fantastically amazing and it was part of why John loved him.

  
The rest of the drive was awkward; John was in debt to his kidnapper. In all honesty, he was really relieved when the black Mercedes rolled to a stop in front of what looked like a duplicate of The Buckingham palace only, it was. John stared with his mouth hung open in shock and wonder.  
"You live here?" John asked, astonished  
"Temporarily," Mycroft commented as he got out of the car in one swift movement unlike John who struggled with his injuries.  
"I thought Sherlock lived on his own in a flat?" John asked as he hobbled up the driveway, careful not to put too much pressure on his bad leg.  
"He does".  
"Then why-?"  
"Because I despise living with my fool of a brother," Sherlock's voice sounded behind John as somebody hugged him from behind. John giggled and turned around to kiss his lover who smiled brightly and returned the sweet tobacco tasting kiss.  
"Oh good lord, not here," Mycroft muttered, his voice layered with embarrassment and disgust.  
Sherlock threaded his thin fingers through John's thicker ones and then John rested his weary head on his broad shoulder.  
"Inside," Mycroft said flatly and Sherlock nodded. The couple walked through the threshold and John gasped as his eyes fixed on all the rich furniture and the exquisite carpet that hushed their footsteps which echoed through the palace. As John walked over to get a better look at the luxury upholstery, Sherlock glided over to Mycroft who raised an eyebrow.  
"I must interrogate you, brother," Sherlock stared icily at his older brother and Mycroft knew it was to do with his drug problem. The only thing now was that John was there and he didn't want to get the medical student wrapped up in all Sherlock's drug problems.  
  
The couch in the lounge of The Buckingham palace was huge. John sighed happily as he stretched out his tired and battered limbs as he leaned back onto the freshly polished leather. He still couldn't believe his boyfriend lived here of all places. _It's fantastic,_ John thought as he turned his gaze up to the dainty patterns painted on the ceiling over them.

"Yes, John, yes it it," Sherlock smiled as he reached out for his lover's hand _._ John looked up at Sherlock with disbelief and shook his head with a sweet yet teasing grin.

"How do you do that?" John wondered as Sherlock wrapped his arms around his injured boyfriend. He let out a deep chuckle which John thought was very sexy and his body betrayed him by allowing his cheeks to turn crimson.

"It's elementary, dear Watson", he looked over to John and then they both burst out laughing. John then caught his gaze and they both slowly leaned into eachother. Sherlock captured John's sweet lips in his and then John moaned in response and slid his tongue in alongside Sherlock's. Sherlock tilted his head sideways to kiss John deeper and the medical student ran his hands through the taller boy's dark curls.

"I love you," John whispered into Sherlock's ear who then kissed his nose and returned the three words.

"I love you".

_"Oh my love, as long as I have you, I don't feel so bad_

In all my life, the moments I've had, I don't have you"

John sang the words to one of the songs Sherlock had introduced him to and he then smiled at his Homes. There was no place other in the world John would rather be right now. This was perfect.

"How are you feeling after this morning?" Sherlock asked as John nuzzled into his shoulder. Silent tears poured from his eyes and then Sherlock pulled away from John to wipe his beloved's tears away.

_"Don't cry, John"_

Sherlock planted a soft kiss on John's ear. He loved John's ears. He liked to play with his ears whenever they were kissing in John's bedroom. That was where they usually kissed because nobody else was ever in John's house. His mom always worked and well, John's dad left the family on their own to cope when the young Watson was only 3 years old. John's mom liked Sherlock and knew about their relationship. She seemed fairly happy about it and always playfully teased John about him getting married to Sherlock when he was older. John would just blush really hard and then he would go all shy and walk away, up to his room. Theyd spend hours there, just holding eachother under John's warm covers and whispering sweet things to eachother.

John's sister knew about their relationship too but she didn't live with John and his mom. She had moved out ages ago and now lived with her partner who she always had argument with. You could say it was an abusive relationship of some kind. Sherlock shuddered at the thought of ever shouting at his John. he would never do that. It would kill him to hurt his Watson.

"What are we going to do about Moriarty?" John asked with a tone of anxiety. Sherlock understood his fear but he didn't share the same fear. His biggest fear was loosing John.

"Don't worry, John. I'll-" Sherlock was interupted by Mycroft barging in through the door.

"Sherlock, Mummy- Oh do stop kissing him! It's an embarassment". To that comment, the younger Holmes shrugged and went back to snogging his boyfriend with a mischievous grin. He could practically his brother's grimace and then he heard a woman clearing her throat.

"Sherlock Holmes", his mummy said sternly and then he turned around to face his mother with a cool glance. John on the other hand, look terribly flustered. His blush had deepened and his lips were now swollen from kissing. His breathing calmed down slowly as he listened to his lover hold a conversation with his 'mummy'. He wondered why he still called her that at age 16. John would be terribly embarassed.

"You must say farewell to your _friend_ now, Sherlock. We must discuss something that your brother has told me _in secrecy_ ". Basically, that was Mycroft's cue to throw John out of the palace. Sherlock glared at his mother but John nodded and turned to leave.

"Goodbye, darling," Sherlock blew John a kiss who blushed again as he limped out into the cold evening chill.

"Mycroft," Mummy rolled her eyes as she ordered her older son to take her soon to be son-in-law home. The older Holmes sighed and then turned to leave with a cold expression.

"Be nice to him," Sherlock snapped as his brother half guided, half pushed John through the door.

* * *

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter doesn't contain any johnlock I'm sorry >

Mycroft often loathed being the eldest Holmes. His little brother would get so much attention for his 'talents', only Mycroft didn't see his deducing abilities as a talent. He saw them as boastful arrogance. He had always turned his nose up at the thought of sharing his toys with his brother when they were children. Not that Sherlock ever asked to play with Mycroft. Sherlock was always up in that dark cave of his, under his blanket reading those thick, dusty science books he'd found up in the attic. He often got frustrated because his younger brother was so.... weird? No, it wasn't just that. Weird was an understatement to describe the boy with a head of matted curls. 6 year old Sherlock would spend hours curling his emaciated fingers around the dark ringlets as he frowned down at the periodic table  that was staring at him challengingly. He hummed to himself as he wrote down a complicated formula and 12 year old Mycroft shook his head in disbelief at his younger brother who was doing work that he didn't even understand in his first year at comprehensive school. Of course, his parents were so happy to have a genius in the family. They ignored their elder son's talents and just focused on the extraordinary talents his little brother had. Sherlock basked in this glory and Mycroft thought that this was probably why he was the arrogant arsehole he was today. He gritted his teeth as he thought back bitterly to when 4 year old Sherlock ran down the stairs and through the long hallways leading to their grand dining room where his parents were enjoying a meal.  
"Mummy! Daddy!" Sherlock's rich English accent echoed through the empty mansion. His parent's faces lighted up as they left their Venison roast to look at Sherlock's doodle he had just drawn. Mycroft scoffed at the babyish scribbles and rolled his eyes before chewing angrily on the left side of his cheek. His right cheek still hurt from the punches Lestrade had given him break time yesterday. Well, it had happened the day before that and then the day before that and it had happened for as long as he could remember. He and the other boy had been best friends for years and had been really close with each other but soon things started to get a little too close. Mycroft's heart would pound in his swelling chest as Lestrade would smile at him with those warm chocolate eyes. His knees would go weak as the other boy would brush his arm slightly, as an accident. However, one day it went too far and Mycroft knew he had pushed the boundaries too far as soon as he had stepped over the line into Lestrade's comfort zone. They were sitting under the late autumn trees that swayed languidly in the crisp air. Lestrade had just finished playing football and was now biting hungrily into a cheese and pickle sandwich. Mycroft, as usual, had no lunch. He was trying to loose weight so that he could join the football team. The real reason behind this was so that he could be closer to Lestrade and still watch him and swoon ever so slightly at the beautiful boy. His honey hair shimmered in the sun, cascading down over his neck signalling that it needed a cut. Lestrade liked his long hair so Mycroft liked it too. Anyway, they were sitting together and eating lunch as friends but as Lestrade looked over to his friend to see if he'd caught onto the joke he'd just made, Mycroft laid his palm on Lestrade's rosy cheek, warm from exercise and pressed his lips to the other boy's in a chaste, inexperienced kiss. He felt Lestrade freeze under the kiss and then pulled back ashamedly and bowed his head before walking away with his empty lunchbox. Ever since then, Lestrade had been bullying the other boy ruthlessly for being a "stupid gay boy".  
  
 So when he was in his teenage years, it was unsurprising that Mycroft Holmes had turned self harm to release the torture of every day. It started off with just a shallow cut a few times a week but then gradually built up to deep clusters of cuts every day. His arms were battlefields as he dragged the razor across his pale skin as the tears made his blood run thicker as he cut deeper and deeper every time.  
"Stupid gay boy"  
"You're an embarrassment to us, son"  
"I hate you, brother"  
"Pathetic faggot, cutting for attention"  
"Go fucking shag one of the other queers"  
All these horrid words that had been said to him were whirling around in his head like a spaceship warping into a black hole in space. They were true. He knew it. His parents hated him. Lestrade didn't love him back. Sherlock despised his older brother. He was gay and terribly ashamed of it. He got bullied at school. He spent many lonely, cold nights wondering if staying alive was such a great idea. He wished it would all end. All the pain, all the heart brake but most of all, his intense feelings towards Greg Lestrade. He often spent those nights alone in his bed touching himself with distant fantasies of Greg Lestrade. It always made him sad to think of them together in an intimate position. Him underneath Greg as he wrapped his legs around the other boy who would pound into Mycroft's entrance again and again, emitting loud moans from the older Holmes boy. He would release in his hand so easily watching a scenario like this in his head. It made his heart pick up pace and he watched his pupils dilate as he stared back at his naked reflection in the mirror. He was worthless; pathetic. He hated himself.  
  
Things got better as Mycroft left secondary school but even as the bullying subsided, he still had those provocative voices telling him he was nothing in his head.  He would do anything to get rid of those voices. Even if it killed him? Yes. He'd tried that a few times but after learning it was impossible to drown yourself at age 10, he then thought of better ideas on how to die. Could he strangle himself? No, you'd just pass out from lack of oxygen and then release the grip on your throat  as your limbs went limp. It was no use. One day, his father came home from work to find him lying in a pool of his own blood on the bathroom floor. He started panicking as he called Mycroft's name but there was no answer. He went to feel the pulse on his wrist but instead felt a huge gash in his wrist. He gulped back a feeling of nausea as he watched his eldest son bleed. His blood stained fingers trembled as he dialled an ambulance and it was there within 3 minutes.  
A 9 year old Sherlock watched with horror as the crimson liquid oozed from his brother's wrists. He tried to go to his older brother but the paramedics stopped him so they could pull him up onto a stretcher and wheel him out of the Holmes mansion. Sherlock was confused but he could see that this was bad.  
  
When Mycroft finally woke up a week later, he woke to the sight of his father holding his crying mother and his younger brother reading in the corner. He chuckled slightly and rolled his eyes when he saw that Sherlock was reading a biology book. At the sound if his chuckle, Sherlock lifted his head up and ran over to his brother. He knitted his eyebrows together as he could now see all of Mycroft's cuts marked into his marble skin. His tears dropped down onto his brother's bandaged wrists and he looked into his brother's eyes before giving him a hug. Mycroft froze at the embrace but hugged back after a while.  
  
"Son, we need to talk to you," Mr. Holmes spoke and then told Sherlock to go and sit in the waiting room. He hesitantly left his brother and closed the heavy door after him. Mycroft took a deep breath. He was starting to shake nervously.  
"What's all this?!" his father yelled and motioned towards his son's scars up and down his arms. "What the fuck did you do?"  
Mycroft looked away ashamed lay and then he started to cry as he felt his mother's embrace.  
"Leave him alone, he's been through enough. It takes a lot to attempt suicide!" His mother said sternly before hugging her son tightly. Mycroft's tears  dropped onto his mother's blouse.  
"I know why this is. Because you're a weak, pathetic homosexual!" His father shouted.  
Mycroft's cheeks burnt with shame as his voice shook when he spoke. "It's not my choice. I can't help it".  
  
"You better change because no son of mine is going to turn out like my brother!" His father roared. Mycroft glared at his father. Uncle Sebastian. Is this really what had caused his father's homophobia? He'd often said awful things like "why can't he be normal and get a wife?" Or "he's sick, it's a mental illness like cannibalism!"  
Mycroft always wanted to retaliate, being gay himself. He couldn't help it though. It was part of who he was and I'd his own father wouldn't accept that, then he'd leave. He'd always thought that uncle Sebby and his boyfriend, Adam were an awfully cute couple and they always looked so happy with each other. He supported them and when they announced that they wanted to get married, he raised a toast to them and said that they'd be perfect for each other. His uncle had smiled and thanked him while his partner blushed. It was Mycroft's nice words that had healed that pain his own brother had given him about it before.  
  
Mycroft sighed heavily as he closed his eyes and rang the bell to alert the nurses that he needed assistance. His father was still staring at him maliciously and his mother was watching the monitor measuring his heartbeat go up and down, thankful that her son was alive. The nurses arrived a minute later and tried to get his father to leave who was forcefully standing his ground and repeating the same thing over and over again.  
"I won't leave until he tells me the truth".  
What more did he want Mycroft to tell him exactly? There wasn't much more he'd be happy to open up to anyone let alone his own parents about.  
As they left his father yelled an angry spate of words incoherently but his mother yelled at he husband and slapped his shoulder so as to scold him. He breathed out heavily as the nurses gave him even more painkillers.


End file.
